


but give me just one night and I'll be almost fine

by Shadowcrawler, unwindmyself



Series: follow me down the rabbit hole [16]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Blindfolds, Cunnilingus, F/F, Feelings, Femslash, Gentle Kissing, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Polyamory, Light Bondage, Post-Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 23:17:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14758161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcrawler/pseuds/Shadowcrawler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: Jemma and Daisy turn to each other for comfort.





	but give me just one night and I'll be almost fine

**Author's Note:**

> [Just. Saying.](http://i0.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/original/001/287/379/9f7.jpg)
> 
>  
> 
> So this is a strange situation. We, as you might guess, are much less sad about the recent death that this story deals with. We honestly share an opinion with Daisy in this regard. But it's obviously still a situation that causes a lot of complicated messy grief feelings for Jemma, and unfortunately it would be incorrect to brush over that entirely. Hopefully we've managed to portray the complicated messy bits of grief while still not excusing any of _his_ negative actions just because he has left us.

Daisy’s been pretty drained since the whole almost-ending-the-world thing. She’s hung out with Mack a little, which helps, but he’s pretty swamped with his fancy new Director job and she doesn’t want to distract him from Elena too much (they’re working their shit out, it’s good). There’s someone else she _wants_ to talk to, too. But for the first couple of days it feels too...recent, too intrusive. She wants to give Jemma space to process. Eventually, though, she’s too bored and lonely to talk herself out of it.

She taps on the closed door. “Jem?” she calls. “You in there? I brought you some tea.”

It takes a moment, but Jemma replies, voice sounding just a little hoarse, “Come in.” She’s not had the energy to socialize too much with anyone, to talk about anything but work and even that only selectively, but Daisy is… things are different with Daisy.

Daisy opens the door and says, “Hey. How’re you doing?” This is a stupid question, but it feels weird to not ask it.

Jemma is curled up on her bed, wrapped in a blanket and halfheartedly watching something on her phone, but she hurries to pause the video and sit up a little straighter as Daisy enters. “I’m doing,” she says, not to be vague but because this honestly seems like something worth celebrating at the moment.

“Yeah,” Daisy says, nodding as she sits down next to Jemma. “That was a stupid question. Tea?” She offers the mug.

“It wasn’t stupid,” Jemma says immediately. “I mean, it’s sort of obvious, but asking it is the proper thing to do, the accepted thing…” She shrugs and takes the mug, cradling it in her hands and staring into it instead of drinking it. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Daisy teases gently. “I’m the asshole who asked how you were doing when the answer is kind of obvious.”

“I’m apologizing for babbling,” Jemma corrects. “You’re not an asshole. You’re trying to help, and that… helps.”

“You’re okay,” Daisy says, reaching out to rub Jemma’s back. “Is this alright?”

Jemma nods and whimpers a little bit, folding forward (but not so forward that the tea is in danger, of course) so Daisy has better access. “Thank you,” she mumbles. “For being sweet. But also for not being _too_ sweet.”

That makes Daisy laugh. “Good,” she says. “I’m sort of flailing around making it up as I go, so.”

“I’m not sure why you’re flailing,” Jemma says, trying for a joke, “it’s not like we haven’t done this before.” With either of them on either side of the situation, no less.

“Yeah, but it’s me,” Daisy says, shrugging. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not always great with the whole feelings thing.”

“And I am?”

“Hey,” grins Daisy. “I’m the one being self-deprecating here.”

“Self-deprecating feels good,” Jemma admits, wrinkling her nose. “Self-deprecating feels like normal. Can we both be, maybe?”

“I mean, I guess, but I want to help you feel better.” Daisy reaches to pet Jemma’s hair. “Whatever you want, though.”

“You make me feel better,” Jemma insists. “I’m glad you came.” She finally takes a sip of tea, then leans her head against Daisy’s shoulder carefully. “Did you actually make this?”

“I did,” Daisy says proudly. “I heated up the kettle just like you taught me and everything.”

“It’s good,” Jemma promises. “It could be a little stronger, but it’s nice as is.” She manages a laugh, then. “Did anyone see you and give you shit?”

Daisy snickers. “Piper definitely saw me, but I think she knew I’d give it right back if she tried it.”

“What, she doesn’t have anyone to get teased about right now,” Jemma laughs. “Does she? Have I missed something?”

“Unless you count May, no,” Daisy says with a smirk. “But she knows _I_ know about her big lesbian crush and that’s the important thing here.”

“Everyone knows about that, though,” Jemma points out. “We’ve all had that figured for literal years. God, that was so obvious Fitz actually noticed it before I mentioned it to him.” She starts the sentence amused, but once she realizes she’s mentioned Fitz, her face falls. That’s been the way of things, forgetting and then remembering.

Daisy notices immediately, of course, and makes a sympathetic noise. “Anything else I can do for you?” she asks, putting an arm around Jemma.

“Just being here is good,” Jemma says. “I’m glad you came, I was afraid to go to you.”

That makes Daisy pull Jemma a bit closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” she says. “I wanted to give you some space, or whatever. It made sense, I dunno. I didn’t wanna be pushy.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Jemma sighs. “I was just… I was afraid of bothering you, I suppose. I know that’s stupid.”

“You’re never bothering me, okay?” Daisy kisses Jemma’s cheek.

That makes Jemma let out another whimper, more obviously pitiful. “I know, but it’s not like you’re not going through your own loss. Or that mine, the one hitting me harder, probably affected you all that much, considering.”

“Yeah, but you’re my girl,” Daisy says. “And I love you and I wanna be there for you and stuff. We should be there for each other.”

Jemma glances up at Daisy, trying to smile (even though she’s on the verge of tears, exactly like she’s been all week). “We should, and I love you too, and, and.” She bites her lip. This is meant to be lighthearted, even if it’s not. “I’m glad you want, since you’re officially my primary again.”

That makes Daisy snort with unexpected laughter. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Not even a little?” Jemma teases. “You won, once and for all.”

“I mean, I’m not complaining,” Daisy says, smiling hesitantly. “I just didn’t want to be...gross? Insensitive?”

“I’m the one who just made that joke,” Jemma points out. “Not exactly the usual MO for a grieving widow.”

“Not to go further down the yikes trial, but I’m actually not sure that your marriage was ever legal,” Daisy points out. “Because like, paperwork. And stuff.”

“Well, there is that,” Jemma sighs. “A figurative widow? There’s not really a good word for the bereaved partner in a relationship that’s not legally certified.”

“Yeah,” Daisy says. “Sorry, not to be an asshole.”

“No, you’re not,” Jemma says. “It’s true, probably.” Her voice goes quieter as she adds, “Is it strange that I’m mourning who he was as my friend more than as my figurative husband?”

Daisy shakes her head. “I mean, it’s been a pretty weird marriage, or like, whatever you wanna call it. And a weird relationship in general.”

“That’s true,” Jemma agrees, pausing to take another sip of tea. “Honestly, as much as I’ll always love him I have to admit he was a shite husband. And not a wonderful boyfriend either.”

“You said it, not me,” Daisy says, shrugging.

“Can I tell you something horrible?” Jemma asks, almost whispering all of a sudden. “I mean, it’s horrible that I’m obsessing about it, but also…”

“You can tell me anything you want, honey,” Daisy murmurs, petting Jemma’s hair. “Whatever you need to say.”

“He didn’t say anything about me,” Jemma confesses. “When he… when Mack was with him, before… I know he must have been in shock, and I don’t expect him to have been rational, but…”

Daisy’s mouth twists. “Wow,” she says. “I know we’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead or whatever, but fuck him.”

Jemma laughs, albeit tiredly. “I feel awful for not being able to let it go,” she admits. “But you would think… even if he didn’t realize he was, you know, he was apparently talking about needing medical help. And, well.” She points to herself with a sarcastic little huff. “I do happen to be a doctor.”

“Yeah, I was aware of that,” deadpans Skye. “So was he. Jesus _christ._ ”

“I know,” Jemma says, making a face. “I think Mack considered making something up, trying to make me feel better. I could see him thinking about something like that. But I’m glad he didn’t.”

“If I die and don’t say anything about you as I’m dying, please drag me out of heaven Buffy-style so you can yell at me for it.”

That makes Jemma laugh for real. “Same, although normally I’d be very anti-Buffy-style dragging out of heaven,” she says. “All things considered.”

“Well, yeah, but this is the exception,” Daisy says playfully. She’s started rubbing Jemma’s back again and then after a minute or so, she transitions to tracing her fingernails over her back instead.

“Feels nice,” Jemma hums, shutting her eyes. After a moment of letting herself luxuriate in this, she says, “I’m sorry, by the way.”

“Hm?”

“For going behind your back to break him out of his cell for our ill-conceived secret mission,” Jemma mumbles. “That wasn’t fair of me, especially after what he did.”

“Oh, right.” Daisy’s quiet a moment. “Well, I’m sorry for bad-domming you into dissecting my mom’s corpse.”

“That was sort of what that was,” Jemma admits. “But, you know. I… well, no, I can’t really say I understand. But I forgive you.”

“I forgive you too,” Daisy says, leaning her head against Jemma’s. “It all just got kinda fucked up there for awhile.”

“And that’s not even taking into consideration the grandson-shaped elephant in the room,” Jemma quips, clearly trying to lighten the mood up again (but also clearly needing to talk that through, because how do you just let that slide).

“Oh _god_ ,” groans Daisy. “Do we have to?”

“I’m sorry about that, too,” Jemma continues, though she’s kind of smiling in an ironic way. “I’m sorry my hypothetical grandson was, despite the good face I was trying to put on, literally the worst, a slave-trader, and also a complete fool about social cues.”

Daisy giggles. “I think you’re off the hook there, considering he didn’t even know you guys.”

“Still, that I could have raised a daughter who’d have raised _that_ ,” Jemma says, cringing. “I’m very disappointed in my hypothetical future self.”

“He definitely came onto me like, multiple times.” Daisy makes a face. “Once I used Lincoln to throw him off the scent. _Lincoln_.”

“God,” Jemma snorts. She leans to set her tea (mostly finished) on the end table and asks, “Could I spread out?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Daisy says, scooting back a little so Jemma can do so. “But yeah, I figured that was a better way to go than ‘okay but I’m literally fucking your grandma, dude.’”

Jemma flops down and promptly stifles her laughter in Daisy’s lap. “Yes,” she manages to say, “I imagine that would have gone over poorly.”

“Would’ve been funny though,” Daisy says, stroking Jemma’s hair. “The look on his face.”

“I guess we’ll never get to find out,” Jemma says. This may or may not be funny, it’s hard to tell.

Daisy shrugs. “He said he was gonna leave. I guess either he did, or something something timestream something.”

“I found his utility knife,” Jemma says. “I think if he’d just gone he’d have taken that, wouldn’t he?” She sighs. “Something something timestream something. Is my vote.”

“Yeah. Well.” Daisy gives a cartoonish salute. “Godspeed, Deke, wherever you are. I guess.”

“Wherever, whatever, etcetera,” Jemma agrees. “May the molecules that made him up have a less tortuous, and torturing, existence in this timeline.”

That makes Daisy snort. “That’s way nicer than what I said.” She runs her fingers across Jemma’s cheek.

“Well, it’s not the molecules’ fault,” Jemma defends, but then she gets caught up in the little touch and shuts her eyes. “Keep doing that, maybe?”

“Sure, honey.” Daisy strokes her cheek a few more times. “Anything else?”

“I, I mean,” Jemma exclaims, suddenly a little breathless, “I’d like to be touched however you’d like to touch me. Would that be inappropriate?”

“No!” Daisy says. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind at all, if that’s what you want. Uh, clothes?” She’s pretty sure what Jemma’s getting at but she doesn’t want to be pushy.

“I do want,” Jemma says. “Clothes should probably… would you? Um. If you’d like, ma’am.” She sounds shyer than usual, because while they’ve done this vague routine before (essentially, grief-driven comfort sex) it’s never been quite like this. Not that it hasn’t been serious, or that how long they’d known the previously-lost parties made it less heavy, and definitely not that the dynamic had been different because at least in terms of the amorous arrangement it hadn’t, but… still.

Daisy nods. “Of course, honey.” She gently works Jemma’s pajama shirt over her head and then reaches to do the same with her pants. “Good?”

“Good,” Jemma agrees. “I like your hands on me. You don’t touch me like I’m going to break.”

“Aw,” Daisy murmurs. “I try, I guess?”

“You do very well,” Jemma promises.

Daisy grins as she tosses Jemma’s pants and underwear aside. “Okay, honey, is there anything else you want?” she asks, voice gentle.

Jemma bites her lip. “Well, if, if you wanted to… if you wanted to good-domme me a little,” she whispers, trying for playful. “To counteract… and I could be good _for_ you. To counteract.”

“I like that idea.” Daisy leans in for a quick kiss on the lips. “How about some scarves too, hm?”

“Yes, please?” Jemma says hopefully. “It’s about all we have to work with right now, but it sounds nice. Soft.”

“Okay. Got any in your suitcase?”

“A few,” Jemma says. “Front pocket. It’s a good thing Deke actually believed we needed scarves in case we had to disguise ourselves.”

Snickering, Daisy rummages until she locates the scarves in question. “I think if I’d told him what they were actually for, he might have spontaneously combusted.”

“Especially considering who they were, are, for,” Jemma giggles.

“Exactly,” Daisy says, grinning evilly. “Anyway. How about you sit up with your knees bent in front of you, and then grab your ankles?”

“Okay,” Jemma nods, pushing any excess blankets out of the way and getting into position. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Good,” Daisy murmurs, “good girl.” She loops one scarf around Jemma’s wrist and ankle, tying them together, and then does the same on the other side. “Tighter? Looser?”

“Feels nice,” Jemma says, shrugging as best she can. “Maybe a little tighter?”

Daisy reaches to oblige her. “Now,” she says, once that’s complete. “I have one left.” She holds up the last scarf. “Do you want a blindfold or a gag?”

“First one, maybe?” Jemma says. “I, if you want to I’d like to kiss, properly. So.”

“You’re cute,” Daisy says, smiling. She rolls the scarf until it’s about the right blindfold width and then says, “Ready?”

“Uh-huh,” Jemma murmurs. “You’re good to me.”

Fastening the blindfold over Jemma’s eyes, Daisy says, “You deserve that, honey,” before stroking her hair. “Now I’m gonna use my mouth on you.”

Jemma shivers a little, happily. “Thank you, ma’am,” she whispers.

“You’re welcome,” Daisy replies, stretching herself out on her belly so she can access Jemma’s center more easily. She starts by gently kissing and licking Jemma’s thighs, murmuring little praises as she goes.

“You feel so good,” Jemma hums, head tipping back a little bit. “Like you want to be, I don’t know, reverent? Is that silly?”

Daisy pauses to say, “No. I mean, I wasn’t quite thinking that, but it sounds nice, let’s go with it.”

“What were you thinking?” Jemma asks, laughing.

Daisy shrugs. “I dunno. I want to take care of you.”

“Well, I can’t think of anything nicer,” Jemma says softly, nudging Daisy with her hips.

Humming fondly in response, Daisy nuzzles at Jemma’s skin for a minute or so before she starts to lick at her center.

“Go-od,” Jemma whines. “Thank you.”

Daisy’s gentle at first, just licking and sucking a bit. She puts her hands on Jemma’s thighs to anchor herself.

“You’re so good,” Jemma breathes out. Normally she’s the one being _called_ good, at least directly, but it slips out and it feels appropriate.

Daisy hums acknowledgement, which she figures will also feel nice to Jemma, and then moves slightly so she can lap around Jemma’s clit. For a minute that’s all Jemma focuses on: the feel of that, the ache that’s already building in her abdomen, the scent of Daisy’s skin close to hers.

And then, all of a sudden, she exclaims, “I love you.”

Daisy doesn’t exactly want to _stop,_ so she sort of murmurs “I love you too” against Jemma and hopes that Jemma understands that she means it.

Of course Jemma does - how could she not? - but at the same time it unlocks something in her, that vulnerable rambly thing she tries not to let anyone else see. “I mean it, I really love you,” she exclaims. “I love the way you touch me and I love the way you want to see me happy and I love that I’m your girl and you’re mine and we’re together, even after everything.”

That makes Daisy sort of purr and make a noise of agreement in her throat as she keeps licking at Jemma.

“A little harder?” Jemma suggests, voice straining. She feels comfortable making requests tonight, all things considered.

So Daisy does, making her movements a bit firmer and adding a bit of teeth just to see if that’ll work. She loves watching Jemma come apart like this - it’s one of her favorite things.

“More,” Jemma breathes out, arching her hips. “Please? Ma’am?”

Daisy chuckles. “Of course, honey,” she says, scraping her teeth across Jemma’s clit and then giving her some soothing licks. “You taste so good,” she murmurs, “you’re so pretty.”

Jemma wails, her hips bucking against Daisy’s mouth. “Thank you, ma’am,” she whispers. “I’m so lucky in you.”

_Me too,_ thinks Daisy as she tightens her grip on Jemma’s thighs just a bit and continues to mouth at her. She won’t lie, it’s a bit of a point of pride for her that she knows that Fitz didn’t really like doing this, and in fact only ever did it sort of reluctantly, and that she’s better at it than he was.

And while Jemma wouldn’t say so outright, she wholeheartedly agrees. She’d thought, before they started dating, that Fitz wasn’t really interested in sex; then once they were together it seemed like he was more interested in sex as a performative romantic ritual that needed to be done every so often for a healthy relationship and less as an intimate private thing. The idea of sex as opposed to the actuality of it. He wasn’t selfish about it, just sort of disengaged. Honestly, this was one of the worst things about his Framework self’s existence: it was clear that he and _Ophelia_ had been thoroughly engaged in all kinds of sex and _un_ clear how much of that was actually part of Fitz’s repressed fantasy life versus the program. She’d never found the time to ask, and now she realizes she probably doesn’t, didn’t, really want to know at all: while her sweet best friend Fitz was gawky and utterly vanilla, the secret evil Fitz was probably all the _wrong_ (sadistic, unsafe) kinds of kinky.

That isn’t on her mind right now, though. Right now she’s just taking deep, shuddery breaths, focusing on the way Daisy’s mouth moves against her. She’s listening to every little murmur and hum, getting jolted by every little lick and nibble. And all she thinks to say is, “I love you, ma’am.”

“I love you too, honey,” Daisy mumbles. She replaces her tongue with a finger, rubbing little circles as she asks, “You think you can come for me pretty soon?”

“Uh-huh,” Jemma says, nodding. “Soon. Just…”

Daisy nods too, and keeps moving her finger as she sucks at Jemma’s clit. Sometimes she likes drawing this out, teasing Jemma, but right now isn’t the time for that.

“Just, just,” Jemma repeats, feeling like she might black out from all the pleasure building in her. “A little…”

Making encouraging noises in her throat, Daisy rolls her tongue and rubs at Jemma enthusiastically.

Jemma nods almost frantically. “Can I…?”

“Yeah,” Daisy murmurs, “c’mon, honey, c’mon.”

“Thank you,” Jemma exclaims, and all at once her orgasm washes over her. Her hips roll, she practically screams with delight, and she collapses forward against her own thighs.

Daisy makes a satisfied noise and keeps lapping at Jemma to clean her up, then finally glances up, grinning. “Good, honey?”

“Yeah,” Jemma sighs. “It’s… it’s quiet now. But it’s the good kind of quiet.” There’s a hint of a question hidden in her tone, a _do you understand?_

“I understand,” Daisy says, idly drawing patterns on Jemma’s thighs. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Jemma says. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Of course.” Daisy starts to sit up, then leans in to kiss Jemma on the lips. “I’ve got you.”

“Thank you,” Jemma repeats, and she leans forward to silently request more kissing since, after all, that was on her wishlist.

So Daisy kisses her slow and gentle, and only pulls away when she starts to be out of breath. “Anything else you want?” she whispers.

“Whatever you’d give,” Jemma replies softly. “Whatever you want. I… I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be without you.”

“You won’t,” says Daisy. She reaches up to stroke Jemma’s hair. “I’m right here, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jemma murmurs, biting her lip. “You are. I… is it bad that I don’t feel guilty?”

“No. Why should you?”

“I don’t know,” Jemma says. “Because I’m not so deep in mourning that I didn’t just... you know. Because there’s a hole in my heart but it’s not as big as I thought it would be?”

“I think that’s kind of normal,” Daisy says. “I mean, not that I’d know. Exactly. But. Yeah.” She shrugs. “Grief is weird.”

“You know how people always say, at least the person who’s gone would want you to be happy?”

“Yeah,” Daisy agrees. “Yeah, I think that’s true. I think he’d probably thank me for like, taking care of you and shit.” She snorts. “If that’s not too mean to say.”

“It’s not, considering that’s where I was going,” Jemma says, tilting her head just a little in the direction of Daisy’s voice. “I’d hope that, anyway. I mean, I know he didn’t take issue with our… us, so?”

Daisy nods, even though Jemma can’t see her. “Yeah. I think it’s okay.”

“But there’s still a part of me that worries,” Jemma adds after a moment. “I feel like I’m doing this all wrong.”

“You’re okay,” Daisy soothes. “And anyone who thinks you’re doing it wrong, they’re gonna have to answer to me.”

“Thank you,” Jemma giggles. “You’re my hero.”

“Thanks, honey.” Daisy reaches to rub Jemma’s back. “Glad I can be that for you. You want me to undo anything?”

“Arms and legs?” Jemma asks. “It would be hard to snuggle like this. And I want to, if you want to.” She halfway-shrugs. “Spoons?”

“That sounds good.” After undoing the scarves and helping Jemma to stretch out her arms and legs, Daisy gently turns her on her side and then nestles in against her. “Good?”

“Very good,” Jemma agrees. “It’s safe with you here.”

Daisy nuzzles her face against Jemma’s shoulder. “Wanna take care of you,” she mumbles.

Jemma sighs wistfully. “You do, always,” she says. “Me and the world, too. You’re incredible.”

“You too,” says Daisy. “I’m sorry about...everything.”

Immediately Jemma murmurs, “I didn’t do anything much, and more importantly you’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

Daisy shrugs. “Still. That things are shitty, I mean. I’m sorry for that.”

“You know what’s horrible?” Jemma asks suddenly, curling into herself a bit.

“Hm?” Daisy holds onto her a bit tighter.

“I realized, while I was packing up his things, that there’s a part of me that’s been geared up for this for years,” Jemma murmurs. “It doesn’t make it less sad, but it’s… I think it’s less vivid of a sadness than I was expecting? Like I’ve already been mourning him bit by bit.”

“I think that makes sense,” Daisy replies. “Especially considering what our lives are like. Doesn’t make you a horrible person or anything.”

“I don’t think it’s just because of our lives, though,” Jemma insists, a disconsolate note in her voice. “It’s like I’ve had to say goodbye to parts of him already, like he’d been dying bit by bit. Except it might have just been the him that pertained to me? It’s a rotten thing to think.”

“I’m really not the best person to ask,” Daisy replies, a bit dryly. “He kind of died to me awhile ago. Sorry.”

“ _I’m_ sorry,” Jemma exclaims. “I’m sorry for going on about him knowing your issues with him. I’m sorry for not having been strong enough to just give up on him altogether.” She arches back against Daisy, though she doesn’t turn to face her (she doesn’t want Daisy to see she’s starting to cry a little). “But that’s… sort of what I’m saying, too? Part of me was trying to hope that things could be fixed, but part of me was going through the motions of that and might have already given up, said goodbye.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Daisy says. “It’s just...kind of shitty in general. That everything turned out the way it has.”

Jemma sighs. “I think I feel worst about how easy it’s been to end this chapter in my life,” she admits. “Because I’d already started to draft the last paragraph, or something elaborate like that. But also because I… I know I can live without him. I’ve faced that before.” She takes a breath. “And I’d rather face that than living without you, easily. I don’t feel bad about that, but I feel sort of bad about being able to admit it so soon after… well.”

“It’s okay, honey,” Daisy says, kissing Jemma’s shoulder. “You’re okay.”

“I believe that you believe that,” Jemma says in the way she so often does. “That’s something. I don’t mean to seem so… whatever I am. It’s like I feel guilty for not feeling enough? But I also feel guilty for feeling the wrong things, and I feel guilty for feeling too much, and…” She trails off and sighs again. “And I feel guilty for feeling about this when we’ve all got the other loss to feel, too.”

Daisy nods. “You don’t have to, but I get it.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I do,” Jemma whispers. “And you’re - god, I haven’t even asked you how you are, and you’re… I’m being selfish. Are you alright?”

“I’m…” Daisy sighs and takes a few seconds before answering, “Being with you is helping. Having somebody to talk to, and stuff.”

“But I’ve been doing all the talking,” Jemma mumbles. “Do you need to… I mean, that’s a silly question, of course you do.”

“Tomorrow,” Daisy says, yawning. “Right now I’m kinda just sleepy.”

“Okay,” Jemma says. “Can I, um… in the morning, can I…”

“Eat me out?” Daisy asks with a grin. “Sure, honey, I’d like that.”

“I’d like it too,” Jemma giggles. “I want to make you feel as wonderful as you are.”

That makes Daisy giggle. “Thank you,” she says, “you’re sweet.”

“I want to be,” Jemma says. “Before we sleep, though, could I…” She trails off, waving one hand in the general direction of her blindfold.

Daisy reaches to untie it, tossing the scarf aside. “Yeah?”

“I just wanted to look you in the eye,” Jemma whispers, turning over to do so. “And tell you again how much you mean to me. How I, I… I’m yours. Maybe _just_ yours, if that’s what you want. Definitely no men for an indeterminate while, but… well.”

Chuckling, Daisy leans over to kiss Jemma’s cheek. “Hey, whatever you need. But I won’t complain.”

“I mean, I think what I need is you,” Jemma says shyly.

“Aw. Well, I’m here.” She strokes Jemma’s hair with one hand. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Jemma says, butting against Daisy’s hand and smiling softly. “I’m not being too… I don’t know, feelings-ish?”

“No, you’re fine. I’m just tired as hell,” says Daisy playfully. “Sorry.”

“Thank you for not minding that I get overly chatty when I’m tired, even though you go the opposite way,” Jemma declares with a giggle and - sure enough - a yawn.

“Of course,” Daisy murmurs, shutting her eyes. “Bedtime though?”

“Bedtime,” Jemma agrees. “Let me get the light.” Which thankfully is easily switched off from her place on the bed, and she can snuggle back into Daisy quickly.

Daisy pulls her close and sighs. “Night, Jem.”

And Jemma smiles, nuzzles against Daisy, presses a kiss to her skin. “Night, love.”


End file.
